Page 21 of Can’t Say No

I glance back her way just as she shoves her phone into her bag. She stalks towards us, eyes locked on mine. Frustration lines her features, and she chews on her bottom lip as she crosses the bar.

Delaney slides back into the booth and drains the rest of her drink in one gulp before reaching across the table to do the same with my beer.

Those eyes, the ones that have haunted so many of my dreams, lock onto mine again.

“That was my dad,” she says. “And my publicist. And they, uh… they have an idea.” She grimaces, like the thought of it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Caroline turns towards her, giving her arm a squeeze. With a soft smile, she asks, “What’s the plan? Anything we can help with?”

“Yeah, actually, uh… fuck,” Delaney shakes her head, anxiety rolling off her in waves.

This worried, quiet side of her is unnerving. Anger I can deal with. I’ve sat through my fair share of her temper tantrums, most of them tied to an argument with her dad. But when my fearless girl is anxious… something is really bothering her.

She flags down our waitress for another drink while the rest of us sit in rapt silence, waiting for whatever bomb she’s about to drop.

Slapping her hands on the table, she finally lets it out. “Fuck, okay, here’s the deal. Connor, you know how Rutledge took those pictures of you and me on Monday? Well, my team sent them over to Star Power, and I guess they’ve cooked up this whole story about how I’ve reunited with my long-lost boyfriend and that’s the real reason I came home. And apparently the story has really taken off, and now–” she pauses to take a long sip of her fresh beer before she continues on, “My PR team wants us to pretend we’re dating.”

I blink, trying to process.

Pretend we’re dating.

A thousand thoughts rush through my head, like how much this sounds like torture, and not for the reasons she’s probably thinking.

She rushes to add, “We’ll pay you, obviously. You won’t have to keep driving for Uber, so that’s a plus, at least.” The weak smile she gives me stings, like she thinks helping her would be some kind of burden. “My team is sending an NDA, and–shit–” she glances around the table, “I guess I’ll need to get you two to sign one, too.”

Wells breaks his stoic silence, “I’ll sign it, but it seems unnecessary.”

Caroline mimes locking her lips and tossing away the key. “Mums the word!” While her words are cheerful and light, she gives me a look from across the table that says, Holy shit, are you sure you’re down for this?

And I love her for it, a true friend through and through.

But I also know there’s no way in hell I’d ever tell Delaney James no.

“You don’t have to pay me,” I say simply, stealing a sip from her beer. “Of course I’ll do it.”

I scrub a hand over my face, a pit forming in my stomach as I consider what this will actually entail. I’m not exactly built for the limelight. The thought of my face plastered across gossip sites and grocery store tabloids doesn’t thrill me.

But a real, genuine, honest-to-God smile breaks across Delaney’s formerly worried face, and that pit disappears.

“Thank you so much, Connor. I know it’s so dumb. I fucking hate all these stupid games. But…” She shrugs, “it is what it is.”

That small shrug feels like a dagger to my chest. So defiant with everyone else, yet so utterly defeated when it comes to her career.

She soldiers on, answering some of the questions swirling in my mind. “We should only have to do it for a few months. Pictures, a leaked video of us on a date, that kind of thing, then let it fizzle out. I just need a feel-good, down-home story floating around me for a little while.”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “No big deal. You might not remember this, but I’m a fabulous actor. Really should’ve pursued the theater.” I say with a flourish and ridiculous accent, desperate to win myself another smile.

It works.

She beams at me. “Always coming to my rescue, Connor Majors. How will I ever repay you?”

I can think of a handful of ways, none of which I’d ever say out loud. I shove those thoughts down.

“Anything for you, Lanie Lou.” I say, sneaking in her old nickname under my breath.

Caroline’s eyes bulge a little as she stares over my shoulder towards the door. “Well, get ready to prove it, Connor. Because I spy a very out-of-place man with a camera, and I’d bet my crappy teacher’s salary that he’s paparazzi.”

“Oh, I was born ready,” I say, digging up confidence to replace the apprehension that’s starting to build.